


After the Storm

by AnaliseGrey



Series: Along the Way [14]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (mention of these in the past), Caleb has a choice to make, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Molly is there to help though, Suicidal Thoughts, This one's been a longtime coming folks, working through some shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 09:07:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19809157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: Something’s up with Caleb.More and more lately, Molly’s begun to notice the changes, though he can’t quite put a finger on what it is he’s seeing.It's time for them to have a talk.





	After the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> And now I cling to what I knew  
> I saw exactly what was true  
> But oh no more.  
> That's why I hold,  
> That's why I hold with all I have.  
> That's why I hold.
> 
> I won't die alone and be left there.  
> Well I guess I'll just go home,  
> Oh God knows where.  
> Because death is just so full and man so small.  
> Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.
> 
> And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
> And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
> Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
> With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.
> 
> - _After the Storm_ , Mumford & Sons 
> 
> And thank you to [Meridas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridas/pseuds/Meridas) and [Mar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sqigglemonkey/pseuds/Sqigglemonkey%22) for reading this over for me <3

Something’s up with Caleb.

More and more lately, Molly’s begun to notice the changes, though he can’t quite put a finger on what it is he’s seeing.

It’s nothing big or flashy- Caleb is still affectionate and loving, possibly even more so than he used to be. There are just as many casual touches- a hand on Molly’s shoulder as Caleb passes, leaning against Molly’s side as he reads in the evenings, Frumpkin draped across both their laps- all of which Molly happily soaks up.

There are just as many intimate touches as well, if not more, and Molly can’t help but read a quiet desperation from Caleb, like he’s got something to prove, but Molly isn’t sure which of them Caleb’s trying to prove it to. He doesn’t see anything false, either in Caleb’s actions or his expressions. Caleb says he loves Molly, and Molly believes him; he believes the touch of Caleb’s hands skating over him, warm and calloused. He trusts in the press of Caleb’s lips to his skin, the warm puffs of Caleb’s breath that raises goosebumps across Molly’s body.

He trusts all of that, trusts _Caleb_ , but that doesn’t stop the something from flitting behind Caleb’s eyes. A shadow, a hint of darkness; Caleb’s always had a bit of darkness in him- that’s just who he is. Molly decided long ago that it wasn’t a dealbreaker. They all have their baggage, himself included, and Caleb’s not any different. 

At first Molly thinks it’s something to do with his kidnapping, that Caleb is still tense, or worried, and he does what he can to reassure Caleb, to promise him that he’s alright. He didn’t come out of the experience unscathed, but he’s well-enough now, and nothing Caleb does is going to break him apart. He isn’t made of glass.

It doesn’t help. If anything, as time passes, the thing in Caleb gets more intense. Caleb winds tighter and tighter, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he breaks; Molly would like to prevent that if he can. He has to talk to Caleb about it, but needs to find the right time. This isn’t something to just spring on a person.

It’s another couple of weeks before circumstance conspires to his benefit. They’re staying in a town, but there are beautiful paths nearby, curated to run through the edges of a nearby wood, and after speaking to some of the locals, he finds that there are good locations for picnics dotted along the way. He sets his plan into motion, paying the innkeeper to provide a basket of food and a blanket before he asks Caleb if he’d like to go.

Caleb readily agrees, smiling as he takes Molly’s hand. They walk- the day is lovely, the sun shining in dappled spots down through the tree cover, and the path is clear and obvious. Molly pulls them along past the first couple of clearings until he finds one he considers suitably secluded, and sets the basket down under the shade of a venerable oak tree along the edge. Caleb spreads out the blanket he’s been carrying on the grass, and Molly takes his coat off, setting it aside before unpacking the basket, setting wrapped sandwiches and apples down along with a bottle of wine. Caleb glances at the bottle, then at the basket with its obvious lack of glasses. Despite his nerves, Molly snorts a laugh.

“I think we can drink from the bottle without issue, don’t you, love?”

That earns him a smile as Caleb reaches for the bottle to open it.

They sit in companionable silence for awhile, eating and drinking, backs against the tree and shoulders pressed together shoulder to knee. They pass the wine bottle back and forth, their fingers brushing warmly as they do; it’s quiet, and peaceful, some of the first true calm they’ve had in what feels like ages. There’s no trace of the village, just the call of birds and the soft thrum of insects in the nearby treeline. Molly’s tempted to just forgo his planned conversation entirely, to save it for a different day; to chase the sweet wine on Caleb’s lips instead of the thread of concern that’s been tugging at his heart for weeks.

But he can’t.

He doesn’t know the shape of the thing inside Caleb, doesn’t know from where it stems, or if he’ll be able to do anything about it. All he knows is that it’s hurting Caleb, and for that reason alone he’ll make himself ask. Caleb carries so much hurt with him already- so much pain and grief and sorrow, weighing him down like blocks of stone. If there’s even a slim chance that he can alleviate part of the burden, he has to try.

Caleb’s head rests on Molly’s shoulder, his eyes closed and face turned up to the sky. He’s not smiling, but Molly knows him well enough to know that doesn’t mean anything is necessarily wrong. The little furrow he gets in his brow when upset or worried isn’t there, his jaw unclenched. The sunlight coming through the leaves above them catches on Caleb’s hair and eyelashes, glinting in shades of copper and bronze as the wind shifts the leaves, scattering the sunlight like drops of gold.

It takes everything Molly has to speak instead of remaining silent, to disrupt the peace instead of letting it lie and hoping it will become better on its own.

“Love?”

“Hmm?” Caleb doesn’t open his eyes, but his head tilts on Molly’s shoulder to indicate he’s listening, turning just enough to press his lips to the soft linen of Molly’s shirt.

“Are you alright?”

There’s the slightest moment of hesitation. If Molly didn’t know Caleb as well as he does, he might have missed it; but he _does_ know Caleb- pretty well, he likes to think- and so he notices the way Caleb freezes minutely before forcing himself lax again.

“I’m fine, _schatz_ , why do you ask?”

The words press against Molly’s shoulder, the buzz of Caleb’s voice softened by the barrier of his shirt, though he can feel the warm puff of breath through the thin fabric.

Molly glances down, and while Caleb’s expression is still neutral, it doesn’t look as natural as it did a moment ago. This is Caleb making an effort to look okay, and few things raise flags in Molly’s mind faster than that.

He takes a moment, trying to figure out how to say what he needs to. He’s been trying to find the words for weeks, ever since he started to notice, and he’s no closer to figuring them out than he was at the start, and so decides to do what he normally does and dives in head first.

“You’ve been-” Lots of options pop into Molly’s head as to what to say- _distant, cautious, sadder-_ but settles on, “tense, lately. Ever since I came back.” Molly reaches for Caleb’s hand and squeezes, pleased when Caleb squeezes back.

Caleb shifts against Molly’s side, and for a moment Molly’s worried he’ll pull back, but Caleb just resettles, pulling Molly’s hand closer and playing with one of the rings Molly’s wearing.

“It was a very stressful time, trying to get you back, _schatz_. I think some lasting effects are to be expected.”

“I can’t help but think it’s more than that.”

Caleb goes still, his hands freezing where they’d been playing absently with Molly’s fingers. He sighs, and when he speaks again his voice sounds unbearably weary, and Molly’s heart aches at being the cause after such a wonderful afternoon.

“What do you want me to say, Mollymauk? What do you want of me?”

“I just want you to be honest with me, love. I don’t want you to worry that you’re going to- to _break_ me, or shatter me. You can’t.” He doesn’t say that he’s already been broken, already been shattered. The Shepherds had seen to that well enough on their own. “I can see that something’s wrong, and I want to help, but I can’t help if you won’t let me.”

Caleb laughs, and it sends a shiver down Molly’s spine; it’s not a remotely happy sound. “I appreciate your care, _schatz_ , but this is not a thing you can help me with.”

“You don’t know that.” He doesn’t mean to sound so irritated, but he hates it when Caleb shuts him out, assumes that he knows best. That isn’t how things are supposed to be. “You’re a very smart man, Caleb, but you don’t know everything. How do you _know_ I can’t help? You’re not even going to let me try?” 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Caleb sighs again. “Because it is a decision I must make, and you cannot do it for me.” He lowers his hand and looks up to Molly, and Molly is horrified to see Caleb’s eyes are wet despite how steady his voice is. “This burden is mine, Mollymauk, and I cannot share it with you.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

Caleb huffs a breath. “Does it matter?”

“Of _course_ it matters.” Molly twists so he’s facing Caleb, pulling the hand he’s still holding up to his lips to press a kiss to Caleb’s knuckles. “I love you. I feel I’ve made that pretty clear by now. I want you to be happy, whatever that looks like. This burden, whatever it is, is weighing you down, I can _see_ it happening, and I don’t want it to drown you. I thought-” Damn it all, Molly can feel his own eyes getting wet, and stuffs his emotions down so he can get the words out. “For awhile I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. I thought- I thought kissing you at the inn that morning was it, that the last memory I’d have of you would be you in that bed, the sun shining in on you, and that...it’s a _good_ memory, love, don’t get me wrong, it helped me a lot to have that, but I thought that was _it_. I thought my life was over.”

Caleb’s expression goes stricken as Molly speaks. “Molly-”

“No.” Molly presses a finger from his free hand over Caleb’s lips. “Let me finish, please.”

Caleb looks ready to argue, but instead settles back against the tree, eyes watching Molly intently. Molly takes a deep breath and continues, though quieter.

“I thought my life was over, but then there you were, and I was so _relieved_ , you have no idea. Having you close in those days was a comfort I don’t have the words for. You helped hold me together when I was falling apart, kept me steady when I felt the world was shaking apart under my feet.” Molly moves the finger from Caleb’s lips so he can cup the side of Caleb’s face. “How can I do any less than that for you? Let me _help_ you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Caleb’s eyes close, his free hand reaching up to rest over Molly’s where it sits along his jaw.

 _“Li_ _ebling_ -” 

And Molly hates how _final_ that one word sounds, how definitive, like whatever will come out of Caleb’s mouth next will be immutable. That word isn’t supposed to sound like that; it’s supposed to be whispered against his skin, said fondly as they travel. It should be muttered in moments of consternation, or moaned in bliss.

It shouldn’t sound like the start of an epitaph.

So Molly leans forward to kiss Caleb, trapping the words in Caleb’s mouth. It’s an act of desperation, and it shows. Caleb makes a noise as Molly’s fangs accidentally catch at his lip, and Molly pulls back just long enough to whisper an apology, darting forward again, kissing Caleb as if it will stop what’s coming, will stop whatever it is that Caleb is trying to say.

Eventually Caleb pulls his hands back and sets them against Molly’s shoulders. Molly thinks for a second he’s going to push, to put distance between them, but instead Caleb just clutches at him, hands fisting in the fabric of Molly’s shirt and probably wrinkling it to hell and back. Caleb’s head dips down, leaning forward until they’re pressed forehead-to-forehead. For a minute, two, they just breathe together. Molly’s terrified, unsure what happens next. He thought he knew how this would go- they’d have a picnic, spend some time together in the peace and the sun, and he’d ask Caleb what was wrong. In a perfect world, Caleb would tell him, would let him help, and everything would be fine.

He should really know by now that this world is anything but perfect.

“Molly, I-” He’s only ever heard Caleb sound like this a few times, his voice cracked and broken, like it’s taking everything he has to speak, and Molly can understand how he feels. There’s so much in just that utterance of his name; Molly can _hear_ the love there, the care, and he doesn’t understand why with all that in his voice, Caleb still looks like he’s about to lose him; as if he _could_ get rid of Molly at this point.

“Darling,” Molly tilts his head just enough to press a fleeting kiss to Caleb’s lips before moving back. “Whatever it is, however terrible you think, I promise you, we’ll figure something out. I’ll be right there with you, I promise.” A stab of doubt spears through him, and he can’t help but pull back slightly. “Unless you’d rather I not be. If that’s what this is about, I- well I admit I’ll be upset, but I won’t hold grudges. I meant what I said, Caleb, I want to see you happy, whatever that means-”

“ _Nein_!” Caleb’s hands tighten in their hold on Molly’s shirt, his eyes going wide. “No, _liebling_ , I...I love you, _very_ much. That is unfortunately part of my problem.”

Brow furrowing, Molly pulls back so he can more easily see Caleb’s face. “I don’t understand.”

A fleeting expression flashes across Caleb’s face, the scantest flicker of sadness. “I have told you, about what I have done, _ja_? All the awful things, all the people I hurt in the name of the Empire. How many I killed. About my parents.” 

Molly nods, afraid that if he speaks now it might break the spell and Caleb will stop.

“Before I met you- before I met _all_ of you, even Nott- I…” Caleb laughs, and it’s _ugly_ , a sound wrenched from deep inside. He glances up towards the branches above them, eyes blinking rapidly. “I was not doing well. I was barely surviving, could barely find a reason _to_ survive.” He takes a shaking breath, thumping his head gently back against the tree. “Frumpkin helped a lot, but in the end what helped me was to have a plan, a goal, the idea that I could somehow _fix_ what I did.” He swipes a hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. “Not all of it, of course, that would be far too much, I think. But just…” His breath hitches, tears finally rolling down his cheeks, and Molly’s heart gives a twist at the sight. “My parents, Molly. I am- well you know what my opinion of myself generally is. But they deserve so much _better_ than the end I gave them, so much more than having a son like me. My plan was to find a way to either undo what I’ve done, or to bring them back.”

Molly has no idea what to say to that.

“I thought I had it all figured out, you know, I thought-” Caleb takes a shuddering breath, and Molly can’t stand it anymore, scooting over and pulling Caleb close. Caleb, for his part, goes surprisingly easy, leaning into Molly’s chest and tucking his head under Molly’s chin. “I thought I had it all figured out. I would consolidate my power, learn as much as I could, however I could. I would do what needed to be done to accomplish my work.”

Not knowing what else to do, Molly pets Caleb’s hair, runs a hand up and down his back in what he hopes is a soothing manner. “What changed?”

Caleb huffs a laugh. “I met Nott. It wasn’t immediate, I was still a power-mad monster even six months after. She kept me alive, helped me be less hungry for a little while.”

Molly knows that’s not _all_ Nott did, but this isn’t the time to argue.

“And then I met you.” Caleb’s voice is barely a whisper now, speaking partially into Molly’s shoulder. “I met all of you. I- you know, I told myself I wouldn’t get attached, _ja_? That it would be stupid to get attached to people I was using as a means to an end. My goal was all, and it would be folly to _like_ any of you, to become friends. You don’t become friends with the tools on your belt. You don’t become friends with the horses that pull your cart, with the chicken that will go in your soup. Friends are _weaknesses_ , places of vulnerability, breaking points. I learned that very early on.” His breath hitches again. “I was _taught_ that, early on.”

Molly gives Caleb a squeeze, burying his nose in Caleb’s hair. He knows who taught Caleb that, and gods, the more he hears about that man, the more he wants to _end_ him.

“ _Ja_ , so, I did not intend to like any of you. I did not intend to become friends. But you all grew on me despite my best intentions. And _you-_ ” Caleb tilts his face up just enough to kiss Molly’s throat before settling again. “Well, you’ve always shone brightest, haven’t you, Mr. Mollymauk? How could I resist when you turned your charm at me.” He’s quiet another moment, and Molly continues to run his fingers through Caleb’s hair, waiting.

“I love you, _schatz_ , more than I thought I would ever love anyone. More than I thought my poor shriveled heart was capable of.” Rough fingers find Molly’s arm, warm against the scarred skin there. “I don’t want to lose you, Mollymauk. I thought I had once, and it brought so much into focus- how much you mean to me, how important you are, how big a part of my life you’ve become.” Caleb curls in on himself, in an ever-tighter ball. “And now I don’t know what to _do._ I had a _plan_ , Mollymauk. I knew what I was about, what I was meant to do before I died, it was _simple_. And now _nothing_ is simple, and it is tearing me apart.” He pulls back and Molly lets him, not wanting him to feel trapped. Standing, Caleb begins to pace, his hands going up to his hair and tugging.

“I don’t know what to _do_. I- I cannot just abandon what I’ve been doing, what I’ve been trying to do all this time, I owe it to them to do what I can to bring them back, but similarly I cannot abandon _you_. If I’m successful, which I think there’s a decent chance of now, I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know if we’ll have ever met. I don’t know if I would have left home, or learned any of this in the first place, or whether I’ll even _exist_. I don’t believe in destiny, Mollymauk, I _can’t_ , not and retain any semblance of sanity I might have left. I can’t believe that everything is destined to happen as it has. I can’t believe I was _meant_ to do what I did. What sort of- of god, or deity, or higher power would ask that of a _child_? Would make children _suffer_ as I did, as _we_ did. What sort of-” Molly’s not even sure Caleb is speaking to him anymore, the words pouring out of him like water from a burst dam. This feels a long time in coming, a necessary release of pressure. Caleb’s fingers tighten in his hair, tugging in a way that has to be painful, but it doesn’t look as if he can feel it. “What sort of monster would _do_ that?” he asks, all the anger burned out, only the pain and aching sorrow left behind. “I didn’t save them, Mollymauk. I didn’t even _try_. I just stood there, watching, while everything burned, and I did _nothing_. How do I not try to atone for that? How can I just let it go, just move on as if I didn’t destroy something so good, as if I deserve any modicum of peace? Of happiness?” The words end on a half-sob as he sinks down to his knees- a marionette with his strings cut- and folds, hands still in his hair. Molly crawls the short distance to him, and takes Caleb into his arms, holding him tight and murmuring soothing words into the man’s hair, a stable presence in the maelstrom.

When Caleb cries, he does so silently. He’s trembling, shoulders hitching as his breath catches in his throat, tears dampening Molly’s shirt, but there’s no _sound_ , no noise, and while Molly’s seen it happen before, it breaks his heart every fucking time. He hates that even here, even now, after everything, Caleb doesn’t feel _safe_. He knows it’s nothing to do with him- he didn’t teach this to Caleb- but he can’t help but feel responsible for Caleb’s overall distress. He’s not sorry for loving Caleb- could _never_ feel sorry for that, but he’s sorry Caleb is in this position, is sorry for all that Ikithon did to him. He holds Caleb tight until the shaking begins to subside, until Caleb’s become a limp weight against him, his breathing even and calm.

“Either way I go, I lose,” Caleb murmurs, voice laced with defeat and despair. “There’s no way to win this, no way to come out on top. If I bring them back, I risk losing you, losing _all_ of you. I don’t know how wide-reaching the effects of such a change will be, whether it will affect just myself, or all of you. Whether the Nein would end up together regardless of whether I was there or not. I don’t know that I can risk that, can risk Nott dying if she doesn’t meet someone in a prison.” Caleb pauses, his breath hitching. “Can I risk knowing that in a different world you might not get rescued from the Shepherds?” 

Molly barely holds back a shudder at that thought, abjectly refusing to let his mind wander down a path of what-ifs. It does that enough on its own.

“If I _don’t_ try,” Caleb says, voice weighted with weariness and guilt. “If I don’t try to bring them back, or to make it as if it didn’t happen, then what sort of son am I? What sort of person am I to let that go when I could fix it? How do I live with myself knowing I could change it and _didn’t_.”

“I don’t know my parents.” Caleb tenses minutely in his arms, but Molly carries on. “I don’t know them, and doubt I ever will. In any case, they were that other guy’s parents, not mine. Technically I guess I don’t have any? It used to bother me.” Molly drags his free hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face with a sigh. “When I was new, I was like every child that’s ever been. I just wanted to belong, I wanted family. I _yearned_ for it, even if I didn’t understand what it was I was yearning for, yet. Once I learned a little more, I wanted my parents.”

Caleb shakes in his arms, and Molly gathers him close again, speaking into his hair; he’s never admitted most of this, not even to Yasha, and it’s not easy. “As time passed, I become a bit more...myself, I guess. I became more of who I am now, and realized that what I wanted was _comfort_ , connection. I didn’t need them for that. I had the carnival, _that_ was my family, and it was all I needed.” He squeezes Caleb tight a moment before loosening his arms to just hold him.

“So yeah, I don’t know my parents, but I’ve _heard_ about them. I’ve heard about families, learned about them, and one of the things that really tends to stick out is the whole unconditional love thing. You’ve had parents; would you say that’s right?”

Molly can hear it this time when Caleb starts crying again, hears the tightness in his voice, choked with tears.

“ _J-ja_ , that’s... _ja._ ”

In the moment, Molly hates himself a little for asking the next question; he’s pretty sure he knows the answer, but he needs to get Caleb to say it out loud.

“Did your parents love you, Caleb?”

That draws a fully-realized sob out of the other man, and Molly waits it out as Caleb shakes harder against his chest. It’s painful to listen to, like his own heart is breaking, and in a way it is. Molly realized awhile back that Caleb’s pain is his pain, that he’s in this likely for good. It _hurts_ him when Caleb hurts; he hates to see it, and this is worse because he’s the direct cause of it. He hopes it’s worth it.

After a few minutes, Caleb responds, his voice ragged and rough, quiet, and sounding so, _so_ tired. “I would like to think they did.”

“Obviously I don’t have first-hand experience, but like I said, I’ve heard stories, and Jester’s talked to me lots about her mama. And I can’t help but think that part of what makes unconditional love so great is that it doesn’t _matter_ what you do, they’ll always love you. It’s a special thing, you know? To know that the love will always be there, regardless of what you do, of what you’ve done.” Molly swallows around the lump growing in his throat, and blinks back the tears threatening in his eyes. “I’m almost positive your parents loved you, Caleb. I’ve known you a fraction of the time they did, and _I_ love you, deeply, unconditionally. I can’t help but think that they’d forgive you. They might not understand, but if they’re half the people I think they were, their anger would be focused where it belongs, and it wouldn’t be on _you_ . I-” Molly licks his lips, trying to find the words. “I can’t make this decision _for_ you, love. I know which option I hope you choose, but most of all I want you to be _happy_ , whatever that looks like. But I can’t choose for you, none of us can. This is something _you_ have to decide. I’ll do my best to support you, whatever path you walk, and I’ll enjoy the time I get to spend with you whether it’s years or...or not.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Caleb says quietly, spoken into his knees where he’s still curled over. “I don’t want to- I do not think I can exist in a world where I don’t meet you. I cannot imagine never knowing you, Mollymauk.” Caleb tilts his head up, eyes bright and wet, red at the edges with tear tracks streaked down his face. “I don’t want to lose you, but- how do I live with it? How do I live with knowing I might have brought them back but was too selfish to do it?”

Molly brushes the tangles of hair from Caleb’s face where some of the strands have stuck. “Again, I can’t choose for you, love. I can’t answer those questions, not as completely and neatly as you’d like, and I’m sorry for that. If I could save you from this hurt, I would. I would save you from _every_ hurt.” He leans in, kisses Caleb’s forehead. “I never met your parents, but it’s easy to see their touches on you. I can see the kindness they instilled, the compassion, the love. Despite everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve suffered, you still let yourself be kind, you still let yourself be compassionate, and loving, and vulnerable. I know you don’t see it,” Molly catches at Caleb’s head to hold it still as the other man tries to shake it in negation of what he’s hearing. “But it’s _there_. Beau could tell you the same thing. So could Nott. And Jester, and Fjord, and Cad and Yasha. We all see it. The only one who doesn’t is you.” Molly can feel the tears starting to run down his face, and he doesn’t _care_ , doesn’t bother trying to stop them or hold them back. “I think they’d be proud of you. Proud of the man you’ve become- _are_ becoming. You may not be able to see it, but you’re so far beyond where you were when I met you. You’ve come so far, and I know you have further yet to go, but we’ll be with you the whole way. If you choose to stay, you don’t have to do it alone.”

They’re both openly crying now, and Molly leans forward, letting his head rest against Caleb’s, cupping his jaw in both hands. “I think they’d want you to be happy, Caleb. They loved you, and it’s what every loving parent wants for their child- that they’re happy, that they’re loved, that they’re safe.”

They cling to each other, holding on tight; every once in awhile Caleb sniffles, shoulders shaking, and each time Molly presses a kiss to his temple, to his hair, whispers nonsense to him as Caleb cries himself out. It’s coming up on late afternoon, hours past when Molly had thought they’d be done with his little picnic. This was necessary, though. As painful as the discussion’s been, he knows it had to happen, had to come out, or it would have festered, its poison digging deeper and deeper, taking Caleb with it. At least this way, Caleb will have a fighting chance, no matter what he chooses.

“I miss them.”

Molly tilts his head to nuzzle at Caleb’s hair. “Hmm?”

Caleb swallows. “I miss them- my parents. There is so much- so many thing I wish- I wish I could have said, could have asked. Things I wish I could have experienced with them. I wish they could have met you, met the others. Even now, years later, there are still things I see on our travels where I think, ‘oh, _mutti_ would like that’, or ‘papa would think that armor was interesting…’, and then it hits me all over again that I can’t tell them, or show them, and-” he pauses, his jaw working. “And I remember that they’re not here because of me. Because of what I did.” Caleb scrubs a hand over his eyes, takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “I was sure, Molly, _so_ sure, that I was doing the right thing, that it was the only way. I wish I could go back, go back in time to the child I was and cuff him upside the head, and tell him _no_ , to stop. It made so much _sense_ at the time, seemed so _reasonable_. Of _course_ we’d murder our parents. Of _course_ we’d do whatever the Empire required to stay strong. Of _course_ we’d do whatever was necessary. Looking back on it now...I remember everything, _ja_? I remember all the lessons, everything Ikithon said to us, taught us.” The venom in Caleb’s voice when he says the archmage’s name is strong enough that Molly’s surprised it doesn’t burn holes in the grass around them. “He took us and he twisted us. He made us in his image, and he didn’t care about the collateral damage. And why would he? What does the giant care for the ants it treads under its feet?”

Caleb moves to sit up, and Molly lets him, leaning back to watch as Caleb straightens up, rolling his shoulders.

“I think it will always hurt. It will always hurt to know what hand I had in my parents deaths, and that is part of my penance, part of the burden I must carry for my deeds. But-” An expression crosses Caleb’s face, and it takes a moment for Molly to place it; he’s never seen that look on Caleb’s face before. 

It’s hope.

“But,” Caleb continues, slowly, as if feeling the words out. “I think you’re right. I think- as much as it hurts, I think they would want me to be happy. They would want to know I was doing well, that I was not alone.” He reaches a hand out and Molly takes it immediately, lacing their fingers together and bringing it to his lips to press them to Caleb's knuckles. Caleb smiles at him, small, tremulous, but genuine, and Molly feels a flutter in his stomach. “I think they’d have liked you, Mollymauk,” Caleb says quietly. His eyes are still too bright, but his smile doesn’t waver. “I think they would have liked you a great deal.”

Molly can’t help but return his smile with one of his own. “I’m glad you think so, love. I’m sure they were lovely people.”

Caleb’s attention drifts for a moment, eyes falling to where his and Molly’s hands are clasped, and he squeezes Molly’s hand back.

“I still have things I would like to accomplish. I- if I am not going to try to bring them back-” He chokes on the words, then shakes his head. “If I am not bringing them back, if I am not attempting to undo what I did, then-” He laughs, only a little hysterically. “I have spent _years_ thinking about this, thinking about this plan, about how to gather the power to do it, to unmake reality. There were times it was the only thing to keep me going, to keep me alive, this _need_ , this driving obsession. I don’t know who I am without it.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s easy.” Molly brushes a lock of hair out of Caleb’s face as the other man looks at him, face open and trusting.

Smiling softly, Molly brings his hand to curl around the nape of Caleb’s neck, drawing him close enough to kiss, a gentle press of lips.

“You’re Caleb Widogast. You’re a friend, a confidant, a lover. You’re a brother, and a shoulder to lean on, and a carer. You’re _family_ , Caleb. You’re ours. You don’t have to define yourself by your past. You can honor it, learn from it, but it doesn’t have to own you, it doesn’t have to weigh you down. It doesn’t have to follow you everywhere like a spectre, rattling chains for attention. You can put it _down_ , Caleb. You’re allowed.”

Breath catching, Caleb ducks his head, burying his face in the crook of Molly’s shoulder. Putting his arms around Caleb again, Molly draws him close, rubbing a hand across Caleb’s back.

“It’s alright, love. I know it’s a lot.” He gives Caleb a solid hug, kisses the top of his head. “You don’t have to do this all at once. It’s okay to take it slowly. One step at a time, one day at a time, yeah? Nobody expects you to change overnight. Give it time.” He darts in to press another kiss to Caleb’s hair before glancing up at the lengthening shadows, the growing dimness through the trees outside the clearing.

“If you’re ready, I think we better get a move on back towards town if you want to be able to see where you’re going on the way back.” He rubs his thumbs carefully over Caleb’s face, wiping the tears away from the cheekbones that are still far too sharp for his liking, though beloved all the same. “But if you need more time, I’m happy to wait. I’ll lead you back.”

A small smile quirks Caleb’s lips, his eyes shining in the lowering light. He clasps Molly’s wrists in his hands, and gives them a quick squeeze. “I know you will, _schatz_.”

He’d only meant back to town, but Molly can’t help but think Caleb means more than that; the longer he thinks about it, Molly thinks he meant more, too.

They collect the remains of the picnic, tucking things carefully back into the basket, and folding up the blanket. They’re quiet as they work, companionable, peaceful, just as they started. They stand, stretching, and Caleb folds the blanket over one arm, then holds out his other hand to Molly.

Molly takes it, and leads them out of the wood.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was difficult to work on, difficult to get right. I'm still not 100% sure I succeeded, but I think it's as close as I'm going to get it, and I hope you like it.
> 
> Through the course of writing this, I had Mumford & Sons' [After the Storm](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWYG7lZBc6U) playing on loop. Maybe have a listen as you read.
> 
> Want to flail at me, ask a question, or just say hi? Come find me on Tumblr at [Analisegrey](http://analisegrey.tumblr.com/) or on twitter at the same handle.


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